


Christmas Cookies

by Nevraukowen



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevraukowen/pseuds/Nevraukowen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the principle of the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Cookies

"I didn't know you could bake", Viggo said bemusedly.  
  
Orlando started and turned around. "Very funny Vig", Orlando said looking down at the package of pre-made sugar cookies in his hand, "you know I can't".  
  
"I do", Viggo admitted, "which is why I am wondering why you are trying to make cookies". They'd only been together for about eight months, but Viggo was well aware that Orlando and kitchen appliances could be a deadly combination.   
  
Orlando frowned at the box, examining the smiling reindeer that danced across the packaging. "Well, it's sort of a tradition, you know: fresh baked cookies on Christmas Eve. I should be able to manage these right? Just pop them in the oven and then pull them out".  
  
"Of course you'll be able to make them Orlando... but do you maybe want some help?", Viggo answered slowly.  
  
"Oh Ha bloody Ha", Orlando responded sarcastically, but with a smile.  
  
Viggo reached out and took the box of cookie dough from Orlando.   


* * *

  
  
Viggo awoke in the middle of the night and noticed he was alone in bed. He glanced towards the bathroom, but Orlando wasn't there either. Viggo shrugged and was just about to go back to sleep when he heard a rustling in the kitchen.   
  
The clock read 1:49.  
  
Rubbing his eyes, Viggo dragged himself down the steps to see what his young lover was up to. When he reached the kitchen, Viggo was greeted with a vaguely ridiculous sight. Orlando, in all his sleepy glory, was pouring a glass of milk. Now, for most people, the act of pouring a glass of milk isn't anything out of the ordinary. But Orlando was lactose-intolerant. The only reason that they had any milk in the house at all was that Viggo had something of an obsession with cereal.  
  
"Orlando? What are you doing?", Viggo asked tiredly.   
  
"Huh?", responded an equally drowsy Orlando, "Me? I-- uh-- I almost forgot".  
  
"What?", Viggo repeated, "are you doing?"  
  
A slightly more alert Orlando blushed. "It's just tradition", he answered-- finally coherent, "like I said earlier".  
  
"What's tradition?", Viggo asked, "baking cookies and pouring glasses of milk even though you can't drink... Wait a minute..."  
  
Orlando's blush increased in intensity.   
  
"Orlando", Viggo questioned incredulously, "please tell me you aren't doing what I think you're doing".  
  
The younger man didn't answer, instead closing the bottle of milk and putting it back in the fridge. Next, Orlando moved to cabinets and took out a plate. Lastly Orlando went to the cookie jar and pulled out a few of cookies they had baked earlier.  
  
"Orlando, I know you are younger than me, but you are certainly not young enough to be leaving cookies out for 'Santa'!"  
  
His skin still tinted red, Orlando turned towards Viggo, "I know that Vig. But like I said, it's tradition".  
  
"So you DO know he's not coming then?", Viggo half-teased with narrowed eyes.   
  
"Bloody hell Vig", Orlando said, embarrassment turning into annoyance, "Just leave it alone alright. It's not like I still believe in Santa".  
  
"Hey", Viggo said in an slightly offended tone, "I'm not the one leaving out cookies for an imaginary entity".  
  
"You're a funny man Vig", Orlando said, "but kidding aside. It's a tradition. I do it every year. Since I was just a little boy, I've always left something out. And before you start, I know Santa Claus isn't real. I know that when I was small it was my Mum or Dad who ate the cookies. I know that after Dad died, when Mum was to tired from work to remember, that Sam would sneak down and do it. I know that when I was at school, Dom would eat everything. I just--- I have to leave out cookies and milk. It's daft of me, I know. But it's the principle of the matter. Santa may not be 'real', but he's part of the Christmas spirit, ya know. It's just paying homage to the force of it all. I mean, giving and sharing and loving and all that rot. Besides somebody's going to eat them. Somebody always has. Somebody always will. If I need to be the one to do it, then so be it." His tirade finished, Orlando went off to bed. Viggo was still standing in the doorway so Orlando had to brush past him to get out of the room.   


* * *

  
  
Long after Orlando had gone upstairs Viggo stood looking at the plate of cookies. They sat in the middle of the counter, mocking Viggo. He hadn't had to 'play Santa' since Henry had grown out of believing. Sighing, Viggo rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as though he could see through it to Orlando. He reached his arm out to flick off the lights, but his fingers refused to get the job done.  
  
He felt bad about hurting Orlando's feelings and everything, but he wasn't going to eat the damned cookies. He wasn't.   
  
It was too silly.   
  
They were both adults.   
  
His arm dropped back to his side, away from the light switch.  
  
His feet drew him forward until he stood directly in front of the plate of cookies and the glass of milk.  
  
Orlando was too old to be indulging in this kind of thing.  
  
Viggo picked up a cookie. Simply to critique the artistic value of the factory embedded christmas tree design, of course. Not to eat it. Nope, that would be silly.  
  
Viggo's fingers twitched and he almost dropped the cookie. The glass of milk was only inches from his other hand, which had mysteriously found it's way onto the counter. The milk was cold, and condensation was forming on the outside of the glass. His throat felt dry.   
  
His gaze flew to the ceiling and his ears tried to pick out any sounds of movement from the quiet of the house. His eyes quickly scanned the room to make sure that no-one was around to see his defeat.

**Author's Note:**

> written Christmas 2005


End file.
